


don't make my shattered heart your calling card

by psyraah



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura (Voltron) Lives, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-S8 with modifications, Shiro doesn't get married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2020-09-25 06:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20372503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyraah/pseuds/psyraah
Summary: Shiro doesn’t let himself stop to grieve; behind him, he can hear the rumble of too many feet, marching ever closer. He gives the controls one last look over—the screen still frozen on its loading screen—before he looks back to Keith.Keith, eyes barely open, blinking in confusion.“Shiro…?”For a moment, the weakness in Keith’s voice makes Shiro himself weak. Makes him want to clamber in with Keith, laws of physics be damned, and pretend that they can fly off together and save each other once more, the way they’ve done so many times.Just not this time.(Or, near death experiences make for great segues into discussions about your relationship with your best friend who you staunchly believe does not reciprocate your feelings.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sochan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sochan/gifts).

> This is part of a gift that I promised to Sochan legitimately 3 years ago now. I am ashamed at how long it took me but thank you so much for being patient, and I hope you enjoy! I am still slowly working through editing the rest of this fic (I'm done on a first pass of chapter 2) but the chapters have become progressively longer so I don't have a concrete time frame, but it will all be up in the next few months. Enjoy!

_ Thud. Thud.  _

His aching feet pounding on hard packed earth, each desperate step bringing them closer to safety. 

_ Thud. Thud.  _

Deep rumbling behind him, distant but still too close, too close to hurting the precious cargo in his arms. 

_ Thud. Thud.  _

His heart racing, from adrenaline, fatigue, and the cold taste of fear. Terror claws at his throat that he might die here—that, worse, Keith might die here. 

_ Thud.  _

The sound of Keith hitting the ground only minutes ago still echoing in Shiro’s mind, his scream painted terrifying red in Shiro’s heart. 

_ “Shiro, behind you!” _

_ On instinct, Shiro ducked to dodge a wild blaster shot, listening to a voice he trusted above all else. Then his eyes caught sight of a projectile, heading straight for a figure in purple and black.  _

_ No.  _

_ “Keith, get—” _

_ Thud.  _

Sometimes, before impact, there is a breath. The moment between the discharge of a weapon or the yell of an enemy and the actual blow. The air changes now as Shiro hears the distant whining of a blaster, foreshadowing the tiniest breath of the universe—not enough to prepare, not enough to strike back, but enough to give rise to gut-wrenching terror. 

_ Keith _ .

“ _ —down!” _

_ But Shiro wasn’t fast enough, and the ground under Keith erupted in front of Shiro’s horrified eyes, his cry ringing in Shiro’s mind.  _

Pain rocks through Shiro, blinding white, forcibly knocking the breath from his lungs. Distantly, he registers falling, feels his feet leave the hard-packed earth as the force of the blow sends him crashing to the ground. But the pain—from the deep ache that hammered him in the back to the sting of his cheek rubbed raw on gravel—none of that matters. Reflexively, Shiro tightens his grip around the body cradled in his arms. 

_ I won’t let you go. I’ll protect you.  _

He made a promise. 

_ The world around him was a blur as Shiro dispatched the enemies who blocked his path to Keith, barely registering their cries as they fell one by one. Nothing else mattered except dashing to Keith’s prone form, heart pounding a terrifying denial at what he might find.  _

_ “Keith,” Shiro called desperately, collapsing to his knees beside his friend. When there was no response, Shiro quickly deactivated the mask on Keith’s suit, heart skipping a beat to see Keith’s eyes closed. But his chest was still rising and falling, and when Shiro pressed shaking fingers to Keith’s neck to find a pulse, relief kick-started his own heart back to beating again.  _

_ Still alive.  _

_ “Come on, bud. Let’s get you out of here,” Shiro rasped, gathering Keith in his arms. His friend made no response, but Shiro ran, blocking out the fear with one bright thread of hope.  _

_ Still alive.  _

_ Still alive.  _

Shiro coughs, spitting dust and grit, rocks digging into his back as his vision clears to reveal a purple sky. His ears are ringing, but hears Keith moan faintly, and the tight bonds of terror constricting his chest loosen a little. 

Still alive. 

But then rough hands are dragging Keith away, and Shiro cries out as he feels Keith slip from his grasp. 

_ No no no no _

Shiro tries to push to his feet, gravel and rocks biting into his palm, his right arm whirring with the effort. But there’s the keen of a blaster, and another shock of pain hits him, blinding in its intensity. It only builds when foreign hands yank his arm behind his back, but he shakes off the lancing agony because none of it matters. He made a promise, and—

There’s a cry of pain, and Shiro knows that voice. Shiro knows it in gentle laughter, desperate grief, feigned boredom, quiet fondness. 

“Keith!” 

Shiro doesn’t know if he screams. If he speaks at all or if it is simply a cry of his soul. 

All he knows is they’re taking Keith, and they cannot have him. 

Shiro pushes to his feet, right arm flying from its orbit. It doesn’t have its usual control with the way his head is spinning, but it shoots upwards and outwards to sweep aside the enemy who’s dragging Keith away. A quick pivot, a twist of his arm and a few quick blows dispatch those who are trying to hold him down, and now both of them are clear, at least for now. 

For a moment, it all catches up to Shiro—his vision whites out, and he sways on his feet, nausea rising to clash horribly with the adrenaline. Yet still, he stumbles forward.  _ Shake it off.  _ He has to get to Keith. There is no choice. There’s no option, because Keith is lying on the ground, unmoving, and Shiro cannot let him die here. 

It might be his imagination—his fear and desperation all mixed into one—but Keith makes some noise as Shiro gathers him in his arms once again. Any other time, Shiro would revel in the closeness, especially after the strain of recent months (the strain that  _ Shiro _ put on their relationship). But right now, there’s no time to marvel at the fact that he has Keith closer than he has in a long time. Shiro has a promise to keep and one foot to put in front of the other. 

“I’ve got you,” he rasps, starting to run again, ignoring the enemies scattered on the ground. “Got you, buddy.” 

They’re almost there. He just needs to keep going. One leaden step at a time to keep Keith safe. Just one more step. Just one more drag of aching muscles through the stinging pain, just another…

Shiro almost sobs with relief when he spots the silhouette of their two abandoned ships on the horizon. He’d been terrified that there would be nothing left of them, that their enemies would have arrived before he did. But there they are, in the shadow of the rocky outcrop where he and Keith had left them before embarking on an exploration which had turned deadly. 

It feels like an eternity before Shiro reaches the pods, the hostile attention behind him pressing him to be faster, faster,  _ faster _ . He almost runs headfirst into the craft closest to them, slumping against it once he reaches it as relief courses through his veins. There’s not much power left in them—it was why they had stopped in the first place—but it should be enough to at least get them out of orbit and a distress signal underway. Shiro can’t hear the enemy yet, and while he had been faster on foot it’s only a matter of time before they catch up. He has to move quickly. 

Although his heart hurts to let Keith go, Shiro carefully sets him down on the ground. Keith stirs a little as Shiro slips his arm away, moaning as his brow creases. 

“Shhh, it’s okay.” The fatigue is too harsh and the aches run too deep for Shiro to override his need to comfort Keith any longer, and he allows himself one touch, one gentle hand brushing Keith’s hair back. He takes care not to touch the gash running above Keith’s eyebrow, heart aching at the sight. That first blaster shot had sent Keith crashing against a rocky overhang, and the fact that he won’t wake up properly is terrifying. It tears at Shiro to leave Keith lying on the ground without patching him up first, but he has to get Keith out of here. 

“I’ll get you home, I promise.” The ache in his heart is heavier than that dragging at his limbs, but Shiro wills himself to stand, opening up the first pod to set it for take off. Despite the fog in his brain and the stinging pain running all over his body, his hands are familiar with the controls and soon the craft whirs to life, a blue circle spinning on the screen as the system begins to load. 

Shiro’s eyes are glued to the energy gauge, and he grits his teeth in frustration when it lights up. 14 per cent. Enough to make it out of orbit, but whether or not it can sustain a distress signal…

Shiro turns to the other craft, gnawing at his lip as he starts a limping jog towards it. Maybe it’s in slightly better shape; whatever he can do to improve Keith’s chances of getting home, he’ll do it.

The only warning Shiro gets is a flash of blue, right behind that second craft. 

Shiro’s heart leaps, and he stumbles backwards—

_ No— _

The explosion is deafening as the craft erupts in flames, Shiro’s ears ringing with the feedback. He blinks to clear his vision of the blinding light, and when he does, he sees figures on the horizon once again. 

“Shit.” 

No time. No time, nothing left to do except bundle Keith up in his arms and carefully slide him into the remaining pod, trying not to panic as the systems take their time booting up (too slow, too slow). Thankfully the smoking husk of the other pod keeps them out of sight of any further attacks for the moment, but they don’t have long. When Keith groans again, Shiro focuses on making sure Keith is strapped in safely, rather than on the aching of his heart at the sound of Keith in pain. 

The aching of his heart at the thought of leaving Keith behind, again. 

_ I won’t let you go.  _

He’d made a promise. 

_ I’ll protect you.  _

Try as he might, it breaks his heart to know he can only keep half of it. 

Shiro doesn’t let himself stop to grieve; behind him, he can hear the rumble of too many feet, marching ever closer. He gives the controls one last look over—the screen still frozen on its loading screen—before he looks back to Keith. 

Keith, eyes barely open, blinking in confusion. 

“Shiro…?” 

For a moment, the weakness in Keith’s voice makes Shiro himself weak. Makes him want to clamber in with Keith, laws of physics be damned, and pretend that they can fly off together and save each other once more, the way they’ve done so many times. 

Just not this time. 

Not even Keith’s heart is any match for Shiro’s need to protect him. Keith’s safety is the only thing that matters, and Shiro feels an odd peace that as soon as Keith is off this planet, the world will be right because  _ Keith _ will be all right. Shiro has come close to death too many times to count; the universe has simply caught up to him. Keith has saved his life just as many times, and Shiro’s grateful for the chance to return the favour. If his last moments are to see Keith to safety, it’s more than he could ask for. 

It’s more than he deserves. 

Shiro remembers, in those memories that aren’t his, drifting in the middle of space in a pod far from the Castle of Lions. In those final moments, resigned to his fate, he had closed his eyes and thought of his best friend. Even alone in the cold darkness of space, Keith could bring him comfort. For everything good that Shiro has experienced in his life, Keith is the beginning and the end. There had been no one else that Shiro had wanted in his heart during what he believed were to be his last moments. 

Shiro remembers, in those memories that aren’t his, Keith pinned down beneath him and crying for him to come home, to step back into the precious space in Keith’s life that he’d abandoned without knowing. Keith’s desperate voice from that day rings constantly in Shiro’s mind, haunts him during his sleep and draws up echoes of the feelings that Keith’s words imprinted on Shiro’s soul. 

“You’re my brother,” and feeling his heart break without knowing why. 

“I love you,” and the universe feeling so absolutely right. 

Shiro remembers waking in a body that was both his and not his and opening his eyes to think,  _ I love you, too _ . Waking up, and in his ignorant hope, projecting his own feelings onto Keith to read something into every touch and every gaze that he now knows was never there. 

Shiro remembers sleepless nights thinking,  _ not as a brother _ . He remembers revulsion at his own happiness whenever they brushed shoulders or Keith turned that gentle smile to him. He remembers self-hatred like poison, thinking  _ your obsession will kill him _ , realising that Keith’s affection could so easily turn to disgust if he ever realised. 

He remembers distant smiles.  _ He’s better off without you _ . Making excuses not to see each other.  _ Who needs your tired heart and tattered soul? Who would want it?  _

_ “Shiro, are...are we okay?” _

_A brittle smile, a shattered heart. Shrugging away from a touch he wanted to melt into, so that he could shut it down, so that he wouldn’t taint_ _something so beautiful as those wide purple eyes holding everything he ever wanted. _

_ Eyes that flashed with hurt at Shiro’s next words.  _

_ “Of course we are,” Shiro had lied, the both of them knowing it. “I’ll always be here for you.”  _

It had been agony, extricating himself from Keith’s life, like painstakingly unpicking an intricately threaded pattern from cloth. But Shiro had done everything possible to do so, because he had realised fairly soon after waking up in Keith’s arms that he could never be _out_ of love with Keith. Not while they remained entwined as one. Not while he played the role of Keith’s best friend, a comrade and brother in arms and nothing else. 

So he had slipped away, telling himself it was only temporary while he fought his heart to control itself. His initial pride when he’d first seen Keith grow older and more confident turned to some kind of cold comfort, knowing that Keith would easily find new friends amongst other Garrison members and the Blades. He would find new people to support him, ones who didn’t also selfishly yearn for something that he could never give. 

By the time Shiro discovered Atlas, his heart was wrapped in a slow decay, and he remembers thinking that his new role was entirely apt: a guardian deity, watching over but never close enough to touch, to connect. To love. 

_ For the best _ , he told himself, time and time again when he walked away from Keith. 

Not for the first time, Shiro wishes that he had been strong enough to be all that Keith needed without being in love with him. He’d hoped that he would be able to, with time, and he’d made futile attempts to buy himself that time by accompanying rejection with reassurances that all would be normal once the post-war aftermath had died down. But those words are just more broken promises scattered amongst the ruins of their relationship. 

He wishes—

The pod’s screen flashes blue. 

He’s out of time. 

The machine’s finally awake, and Shiro wastes no time in flicking the switch to autopilot and preparing it to launch. His last move is to jab the distress signal repeatedly, but the ship still hasn’t booted up completely yet. 

“Shit.” 

Shiro sucks in a breath, trying to stay calm. He looks to Keith, who’s shifting a little, blinking slowly, brow furrowed as he tries to will himself to proper wakefulness. It’s an expression Shiro’s familiar with, after all these years together. It tugs a little at his heart, casting his mind back to simpler times at the Garrison, when Keith made the exact same expression after waking up from an afternoon nap that Shiro had bullied him into. 

How Shiro wishes he could give Keith that peace now.

Instead, he leans forward, pressing his forehead to Keith’s, catching Keith’s confused, violet gaze with his own.

“Keith,” he says, low and urgent, the name familiar on his tongue even as regret burns his throat. They haven’t been this close in months but he should’ve been there for his friend, even if they could never be more. 

There’s nothing to be done about that now. And regardless, in this moment, he  _ can _ save Keith. 

“I can’t run a distress signal yet,” Shiro continues. “The system’s not cooperating. But once it gets up and running, you call for the others, okay?” Keith’s still blinking at him, and Shiro’s heart lurches. “All right? You call for help. They’ll come for you. You have to be safe.” 

“Wait, Shiro…” Keith coughs, shaking his head a little. Shiro can start to see the panicked desperation creeping in as Keith slowly pieces it all together. “Shiro, what—”

Shiro closes his eyes, soul grieving. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and the regret almost chokes him. “I’m so sorry.” 

_ For everything _ . 

Keith’s eyes flash a desperate grief.

“Shiro, wait—!”

It breaks Shiro’s heart to flick a switch, slam the pod closed, and step away. 

Shiro doesn’t see Keith’s expression as the engine roars to life and carries his love away to the skies. It’s just as well, because Shiro doesn’t think he could live through the betrayal he would see there. 

_ I’m sorry. I’m sorry.  _

Shiro doesn’t get another moment to dwell on it, as another projectile strikes the burning mass of the craft behind him, the thunderclap of impact sending him reeling again. 

He has to survive, as long as possible. Keith always saves him. 

Just maybe…

Maybe not this time.

Body aching, heart torn, Shiro runs. 


	2. Chapter 2

_ It’s good to have you back. _

_ It’s good to be back. _

_ … _

_ How many times are you going to have to save me before this is over? _

_ As many times as it takes. _

(And Keith meant it. Oh, god, how he meant it, how he had built his entire world on that promise.)

…

_ Just let go, Keith. _

_ I died. _

_ … _

_ “Shiro, are...are we okay?” _

_ “Of course we are. I’ll always be here for you.” _

…

For Keith, loving Shiro is losing him. 

No. No. Keith knows better, and knows that it’s selfish to think that when Shiro has given him so much more. Loving Shiro is breathing and freedom, and uncovering Keith’s own strength and patience and warmth—all the things he never thought he could have. Loving Shiro is learning that those things were always in him, is learning his worth and finally seeing all the good that makes him Keith. 

Loving Shiro is longing and _ be _longing, and could never be something that Keith can regret. 

But Keith _ has _ lost Shiro, time after horrible time. Not too many times to count, because each moment is seared indelibly on his soul through fear and grief. Once was already too much, too much to have lost Shiro to the stars and the night sky, his promise to return ringing _ liar liar liar _through Keith’s pain. When Keith found out about how Shiro had saved Matt, all he could think was that his best friend was far too selfless for his own good. He also knows, in a way that warms his heart and makes his blood run cold with fear, that Shiro would do anything to keep Keith safe. 

It’s that thought which slowly filters through Keith’s mind like headlights struggling through morning mist. The knowledge of Shiro’s devotion brings him comfort but also pain, because _ Shiro _ should be the one kept safe after everything he’s been through. Shiro, whose panicked voice drifts in some distant place that Keith can’t quite reach. Shiro, who Keith fights heavy eyelids open for, because Shiro needs him. Words don’t make any sense, but Shiro’s heavy breathing sounds frantic and Keith has to be there to tell him it’ll be okay, that Keith won’t let anything hurt him again. 

_ Shiro_. 

He tries his hardest to speak, but his tongue is clumsy and his throat’s scraped so raw with dust, that all he manages is a weak cough. White hair swarms his vision as he tries to make sense of what’s happening, and Shiro’s breath warm against his cheek in the smallest of comforts. 

A pilot’s seat. Keith’s in a pilot’s seat; he knows this feeling, slumped over in a cockpit. The laboured whirring of machinery mixes with Shiro’s equally laboured breaths, and slowly, Keith’s swimming vision starts to settle and the blinking lights of their hovercraft blur into view. 

Unease prickles under his skin as the pieces come together and his senses log back online to take in all the signs of something gone horribly wrong. Blood smeared on Shiro’s armour. Smoke stinging Keith’s nose, ears that are ringing from an explosion, and aches that lance all over his body. 

And Shiro’s voice, desperate and scared. 

“Shiro,” Keith croaks.

Shiro swears, and Keith wants to tell him that whatever it is, they’ll be okay. Whatever it is, Keith will be right there by his side to back him up, even if he hasn’t been recently. Keith will swear on his life to protect him, if Shiro will only give him a _ chance_. 

Then Shiro leans forward, and Keith can’t look anywhere other than at fearful grey-brown eyes. Can’t do anything but blink in frustration as Shiro’s words blur into one. 

“Wait, Shiro—” Keith coughs, his breath caught in his throat. “Shiro, what—” 

_ —are you saying? I can’t hear you. _

_ It’s okay,_ he wants to say. _ I’m here. _

But the words never leave his lips, and Shiro’s face is still carved with rough lines of fear and grief that Keith wants to smooth away. Shiro has seen too much hurt in a short life; that Shiro should never have to suffer was the foundation upon which Keith had built his life, and it remains so to this day. It’s a foundation that Keith has fought fiercely to protect, will always fight to protect, despite the workings of a universe which imposes a different will. 

A universe which has Shiro utter his next words, fearful and heartbroken. 

“I’m sorry.”

The words hit Keith like a blow. His breath catches in his throat, taking his heart tripping with it. 

That Shiro should never have to suffer was the foundation upon which Keith had built his life, and the reason for that is another truth that centres his soul: Shiro does not,_ will _ not, leave. Keith doesn’t remember much about the fleeting, early years in his life when he had been happy and whole, and the lonely years that followed are only slightly clearer. The memories are more feeling than image: the distant warmth of love that grew colder as time went by, then the utter loneliness that had been built around his parents’ absence, the structures he erected around the chasm of everything lacking. Those were never stories that Keith had ever told Shiro in full, yet Shiro never left. Because although Keith had never said as much in so many words, Shiro knew more than anyone else that all Keith needed was for someone to _ stay_. Not do anything extraordinary other than to see him, to know him, and not to leave. 

That’s all Keith has ever wanted, and Shiro gave it to him. For as long as Keith can remember, Shiro has never said goodbye without a promise of return, a promise that even if they were apart, their hearts wouldn’t be. I’ll see you next week. I’ll be back before you know it. Even with the distance that has grown between them in the past few months, Keith has clung to foolish hope that it might be bridged in Shiro explaining it away with work and gentle promises to catch up after everything settled down. 

But Shiro speaks again, and Keith wants to scream. “I’m so sorry,” Shiro whispers, and the apology kicks Keith’s terrified heart into overdrive, sends him scrambling for words to make Shiro _ stay_. Keith hasn’t had the chance to mend things between them, to promise to love Shiro better and without the burdens that Keith has dropped on their relationship like the blade of the guillotine.

Keith hasn’t had the chance to be better, to be everything Shiro needs of him. 

And now he’s out of time. 

Keith knows this tone. It’s the way Shiro said, “I want you to lead Voltron”. Now they’re here again, and this time Shiro doesn’t sound resigned, or practical as he once did before he realised that Keith hadn’t grown beyond needing him (had no desire to ever grow beyond it). 

This time, he sounds terrifyingly desperate. 

This is the sound of Shiro’s grief and fear. This is Shiro walking away. 

This is Shiro saying goodbye. 

All at once, it’s too much for Keith. All his senses are still frustratingly out of reach, and with the new terror that Shiro is leaving, the frustration turns to desperation. 

“Shiro, wait—!” The words are a faint rasp, and Keith tries to reach out but his fingers only brush Shiro’s arm, his body betraying him after so many years of honing it to listen to his every command.

The brief contact isn’t enough; Shiro’s warmth disappears. 

The door slams shut. 

“No!”

The pod leaps away from the planet’s surface, and the force of the launch sends Keith’s head spinning again; it’s all he can do to keep himself from passing out right there. The world tips and pain spikes intermittently through the back of his skull but Keith just grits his teeth and clenches his eyes shut, sucking in cool air. 

Focus, Keith, focus. Shiro’s hurt. Keith can’t remember how, or why, but Shiro’s hurt, and he needs Keith to get it _ together_. 

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said, fear lacing his words and grief in those familiar eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, because he was keeping Keith safe even as he’s left Keith all alone again. He was keeping Keith safe, from…

_ “The pods need to recharge,” Shiro said, voice tinny over his communicator from the other craft. _

_ “Place is further away than what they told us,” Keith replied, tension in his words. Here, in the pods, he was safe; if they touched down on the planet below, he would have to deal with this awkwardness between them face-to-face. But the job was the job. _

_ “There’s a planet below,” Shiro said. “Let’s just touch down for a bit.” _

_ “There’s no response.” Keith glared at the communicator in his hand. “The group that contacted us,” Keith said, answering Shiro’s puzzled glance. “They’re not responding now.” _

_ Shiro frowned, gazing up to the horizon. “That’s weird, we should get in touch with—get down!” _

_ Blood on his cheek and his breath harsh in his ears—but none of that mattered when Keith spotted where the next projectile was headed, bright as day through the mass of assailants around them. _

_ “Shiro, behind you!” _

_ Keith saw Shiro duck, and breathed a sigh of relief, glad his friend was— _

_ A whine. A whir. _

_ “Keith, get—“ _

_ The world shattered. _

_ Dust and dirt exploding around him, and a sharp pain to the back of his head. Dust and dirt on the pristine white of Shiro’s chest plate, bobbing up and down in front of Keith’s eyes. The tang of blood in his mouth, blood on Shiro’s cheek, grief in his eyes— _

Dust and dirt and grief, down below where Keith has left his friend. 

Shiro. 

Keith shoves himself upright—and immediately regrets it when his head feels like it’ll fall off his shoulders. Trembling, he braces himself against the control panel, fighting down the nausea sweeping over him in waves. 

“Come on,” he growls, frustration blending with panic as he fights his body back into submission. Shiro needs him, and here he is, barely clinging to consciousness. It’s ridiculous that he can’t even sit upright, but it’s all too much: the pod’s endless stream of noises and lights that Keith can’t compute, the uncontrollable shaking of useless muscles that are weak with pain. And through it all, the soul-hollowing fear of knowing that Shiro is in danger. Even if Keith can get his pod down there, the craft isn’t equipped for combat. Keith needs a plan but the situation is useless, and he’s failing Shiro _ again _—

_ Breathe. _

Keith sucks in a shuddering breath, eyes shut tight. 

_ You’re okay. _

He swallows down the sob building in his throat, pulling the shattered pieces of his heart back into working order one by one. 

“Patience yields focus,” he rasps, his voice a foreign echo. Panicking won’t do anything for Shiro. Fear alone won’t get him back, so Keith just has to use it to fuel his fire, the way he’s done his whole life. 

Right now, this is just another mission. 

Easy. 

Keith opens his eyes, exhaling as he takes stock. There’s still a lancing pain that’s shooting rhythmically through his skull, but it’s faint enough to ignore. Still, he’s not in any state for a prolonged fight by himself; he’ll need backup. 

His clumsy hands manage to flick the communications switch. “This is Keith.” He coughs, throat still parched. “This is Keith, requesting backup _ now_.” 

One heartbeat. Two. 

Nothing. 

“This is Keith,” he repeats, voice rougher. “I’m requesting backup, Shiro and I have been attacked. Does anyone copy?” 

Again, nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat. 

“I—this is Keith!” Where’s his team? They promised to keep a careful eye out for incoming communications after the urgent call for Shiro and Keith to go venturing out to a distant planet. What could—

The lights dim, and the beeping of the pod finally stops, engulfing Keith in eerie silence. 

“Energy saving mode engaged,” the system intones, and Keith’s heart stops. 

“No.” He jabs at the controls, wide-eyed, but the pod doesn’t move. “No, no, no, don’t do this to me.” He has to find his team, he has to get back down there, has to get back to where Shiro is. “No, no, please, you have to let me—please, no!” Keith throws a desperate glance to the battery meter—5%. He was lucky to make it out of orbit, but now the system is shut down in an attempt to conserve what little energy it has while he waits for help. All he can do when it shuts down like this is—

“Oh, you _ idiot_,” Keith hisses, slamming the distress signal. 

“Function currently not available,” the pod says. 

Keith screams in frustration. “You’ve got to be kidding me, come _ on_!” He jabs the button over and over, willing it to just _ listen_, but the pod just keeps repeating its horrible message. 

_ “I can’t run a distress signal yet.” _

Shiro warned him, Keith remembers with a jolt. Like Keith, the system needs time to boot up. Like Keith, the technology is useless to Shiro. 

The fight goes out of him, and he slumps over, finally caving in to the familiar grief crawling up his throat. 

This is it. 

This is the end of a road paved with Keith’s regrets and good intentions. He was meant to have more time. _ They _ were meant to have more time, to rebuild the crumbling foundations of a friendship that hadn’t survived the earthquake of Keith’s confession. 

_ I can’t run a distress signal yet. _

“Then why’d you send me up here?” Keith whispers, no longer fighting back the sob that chokes his words.

_ You have to be safe. _

Keith’s eyes slip shut. “How can you not know what you mean to me?” 

Keith _ told _ him, and had been sure that Shiro had heard. It had been the clone in front of him (braced over him with death in his gaze) but they’ve had enough scattered conversations in the aftermath to confirm that Shiro knows all that the clone knew. They haven’t talked about it, but they haven’t needed to; nothing spoke louder than the way Shiro distanced himself and the awkwardness that’s fallen between them, where before there was no hesitation. Where before, Shiro always looked at Keith like he could watch him forever, held him like he was the only important thing in the universe.

The way he had held Keith only moments ago. 

It’s stupid that even now, when Shiro is hurt and alone and out of reach, something horribly selfish in Keith wants that. But it doesn’t make sense, because Shiro _ doesn’t _ love him, or at least, not the way Keith wants. Not the way that he meant, pinned beneath the clone and desperate to bring his heart and soul back home. 

It was those words which drove Shiro away, wasn’t it? It was those words and the enormity of what Keith felt that lit a forest fire to devour every good thing that Keith has ever known, and his friendship with the best _ man _ he’s ever known. 

But Shiro whispered those horrible apologies, and the shape of his words spoke of everything that Keith ever wanted—could ever want—from him. Shiro looked at him before closing the pod as though he was drinking in a sight of which he could never tire. Keith knows, because he’s seen the same look on his own face when his focus snaps back on a video-call after staring at Shiro just a little too long. The same look in the Paladins’ million and one photos that Lance manages to take without Keith noticing.

It’s the way Keith knows that he watches Shiro, with love and longing. And it makes no sense, because Keith had driven Shiro away; why would Shiro look at him as though…

Keith’s eyes shoot open when the pod beeps. Two words appear on the dimly-lit screen in front of him, pushing hope back into his heart. 

S I G N A L L A U N C H E D

“Come on, come on, come on.” They should be coming quickly, should know that a beacon without any further contact could only mean something dire. “Please,” he whispers, scanning the frustrating nothingness outside and trying not to think of the time that’s already passed (or how little of that time you need to take someone’s life). “Please.” 

Each pulse of Keith’s heart is a death knell as the minutes stretch on and nothing happens. No one comes. The only company Keith has are the words on the screen, still blinking at him mockingly. 

And Shiro, down below and beyond help.

Please. 

_ Please. _

...a faint, familiar tug at the back of his mind. 

Getting closer, getting stronger, and Keith holds his breath as he peers out into the darkness. For one, fearful second, he almost dismisses it as the glimmering of distant stars. But the distant lights grow ever closer, and the familiar roar in his mind is equally undeniable. 

Voltron. 

Black moves differently without her pilot, trailing behind the others instead of leading the charge, but her steady affection is ever the same and a sense of calm washes over Keith for the first time since he woke. Even with the communications down, Black knows where she needs to go, splitting off from the rest of the pack to head to Keith. It only takes a moment for her to open her jaws and gently pluck his dying craft from the darkness, and as soon as it’s safe, Keith opens the craft and shoves himself out of the pod. 

Keith’s feet hit the smooth metal flooring as he tumbles out, bright spots dancing before his eyes. There’s not another moment to waste, so he starts shuffling to where he knows his pilot’s seat is, even as his vision washes with waves of white. The familiar controls are beneath his fingers before he’s even seated, and Black starts speeding off with barely a touch, in tune with Keith’s mind and driven by the same basic instinct to protect the man who is so deeply intertwined with both their souls. 

“—eith! What’s happening?” 

“Can you hear us?” 

The voices of the other Paladins burst through as soon as Keith’s seated, frantic and urgent. 

“I’m here,” Keith says, coughing after the words trip from his throat. Relief floods him as they follow his lead with no further questions; the sooner they get moving, the sooner they can get to Shiro. “Shiro’s still down there, and whoever was after us wasn’t friendly. We need to help him.” 

“Got it.”

“Atlas will be here soon,” Allura tells him. “We followed your signal as soon as we received it, but they shouldn’t be far behind.” 

The planet grows closer, and soon the five of them are breaking through the clouds. From this distance, the planet’s surface is just one expanse of grey and brown, and Keith scans the terrain desperately for any sign of Shiro. The rapid journey of his pod has thrown him off course, leaving him unsure of where it was that he last saw his friend. 

“Pidge, have you got a read on him?” 

“Working on it,” she says, voice tight. The Paladins continue their silent descent, and Keith has to bite his lip to stop himself from snarling at Pidge to get a move on. The ground before them stays frustratingly still, and Keith’s too far away to work out if any of it looks familiar. But Shiro is out there _ somewhere_, so close but still so perilously out of reach. 

“Got him!”

In a flash of purple, Black’s screen lights up with Pidge’s coordinates and Keith has barely nudged her before she’s shooting off towards Shiro. Shiro may pilot a different partner now, but the bond remains—after all, Black carried his soul for months—and there’s only the barest blurred line separating Keith’s own fear and ferocity from his lion’s. 

The coordinates guide them to a rocky field, and Keith’s heart leaps when he spots the blackened husk of their second pod. 

Then Shiro’s image flickers onto the screen, and Keith’s breath catches in his throat. 

Shiro’s sprawled on the ground, someone’s boot on his back and his face in the dust. His hair is dark with dirt and blood, a stark contrast to the usual silver-white, but he’s still struggling against the attackers trying to grab his Altean arm. Even run ragged, Shiro puts up a fight, and he manages to take out one, two, three of them, before they obviously decide that they’ve had enough. 

The landscape passes by in a blur as Keith urges Black faster, Shiro’s name on his lips (_ in his heart, through his soul _). But it’s not enough and Keith watches the scene play out in his screen’s eerie purple: the aliens rattle off a series of clicks and squeaks, then one of them lifts a rod—sparking with power—and they lash out, jabbing it towards the port of Shiro’s arm—

_ No. _

Not fast enough, not strong enough, not _ enough _ to protect him—

Shiro screams. 

Shiro screams, and the sound wrenches pain from Keith too. He has heard Shiro hurt, terrified, desperate, but never this. He’s never borne witness to the sound of Shiro in unworldly agony, has never seen his face contorting horribly with pain, projected across the entirety of Keith’s screen. 

There is nothing. Nothing but the raw sound of Shiro’s pain and his name echoing in Keith’s mind and ripped from his soul. Keith doesn’t know if he screams it or if it’s only in his head, his essence tangling with Black’s in desperate need. Their mind is washed blank with panic, fingers moving without thought to lock their blaster onto the alien being still drilling a rod into the blue glow of Shiro’s shoulder. 

They skate their fingers over a button, the command more from the heart than hand as they take the shot. 

The blast finds it mark. And the next, and the next, and the next, until Keith loses count of how many bulky figures have been cut down, leaving Shiro’s unmoving body lying in the dust. He looks so impossibly small and the sight burns Keith with a need to protect, so strong it _ aches_. 

Pain is still swimming through his weakened muscles and blotting out any thought he has, numbing him to everything but the desperate drive to get to Shiro. Or maybe it’s the fear, on the edge of overwhelming, that wipes all conscious thought from his mind and has every heartbeat feeling like he’s plunged from a cliff’s edge. There is nothing but the sound of Shiro’s name singing in his veins, echoing with every footfall on Black’s cold floor and each harsh crunch of alien earth as he tumbles from his lion. 

Thud. 

(His heart, slipping off the knife’s edge.)

Thud. 

(Stumbling over his own feet.)

Thud. 

(The pulsing in his ears.)

“Shiro!” 

Dust flies when Keith collapses in the dirt, and he reaches immediately for the prone figure on the ground. He gives Shiro’s shoulder a gentle shake, calling his name—but Shiro doesn’t respond. He doesn’t make any noise at all, and Keith’s fingertips feel numb as he repeats the motion. 

“Shiro, come _ on_.” 

Keith can’t have been too late. He can’t have failed him this time, not when it’s always been enough to try. In a world which always took and took and _ took _ no matter what Keith did, Shiro breathed new life into him when they met because for Shiro, it had always been enough to just _ try_. From the ease of their friendship to snatching Shiro back from beyond any mortal plane, Keith’s efforts have always meant something with Shiro. 

He can’t fall short this time. Not now. Not with him. 

Shiro groans. 

It’s a weak, pathetic thing, but it’s enough to shove despair away. 

“Shiro?” Keith shakes Shiro’s shoulder again, so, so gently, daring to hope. “Shiro, you with me?”

Shiro coughs, fingers twitching, and Keith holds his breath as Shiro shifts, eyes sliding up to meet Keith’s own. Shiro’s gaze is unfocused and he blinks too slowly, but he’s breathing, even if it’s a little uneven, and it makes Keith feel like he can also breathe again. 

“K-Keith.” Shiro coughs, groaning as he tries to push himself up, but Keith keeps a firm hand on his arm. 

“Hey, hey, just stay still.” Keith glances up, letting out a breath when he sees the other lions come to a halt and the other Paladins jump out. “We got you. You’re gonna be okay. Where are you hurt?” 

Shiro coughs again, before the sound morphs into a groan. 

“I guess…everywhere…?” Shiro closes his eyes, chest heaving. “But nowhere serious,” he continues. “You’re the one I’m worried about.” 

Really? “Shiro.” _ I heard your scream. _“Your arm—”

“Can be fixed.” When he opens his eyes, they still don’t seem entirely focussed, but his concern is clear. “I just need a moment. You hit your head.”

Oh. That explains the nausea. “I’m fine.”

“_No_, you—you wouldn’t wake up.” With a groan, Shiro sits up, even as Keith protests, and he grabs a hold of Keith’s arm. “You wouldn’t wake up. You have to be safe.” The desperation lacing his words tell Keith that Shiro’s not okay, despite the sudden burst of strength. Keith’s heart aches in an echo of the pain in Shiro’s gaze. 

“I’m safe, Shiro,” he says quietly, hand closing over the trembling fingers that cling desperately to his arm. “You made sure of that.” Still keeping an eye on Shiro, Keith looks up to check on the others. They need Allura or Hunk; Keith can barely support his own weight back to his lion, let alone Shiro’s. He waves the Paladins over tiredly. “We just need to look after you, now.” 

It doesn’t register. 

It doesn’t click, with fatigue drowning his muscles, mixed thoroughly with his worry for Shiro, what it means when he sees Pidge’s eyes widen in horror and feels Shiro stiffen next to him. It’s been such a horribly long day that Keith doesn’t compute Hunk’s shouted words or understand why Lance is lifting his bayard—not until it’s too late. 

“Keith, behind you!” 

“Get down!” 

No one is faster than Shiro. 

Shiro shoves Keith to the ground and another wave of agony washes through Keith at the impact. A question is on his tongue even as alarms fire in his mind, but he can’t move with Shiro’s weight pinning him down. 

Two blaster shots echo amongst the shouting—one Lance’s, the other unfamiliar—and Keith barely has a moment to think _ enemy threat defend _before he feels the impact of the shot, but not the pain. 

One quick, cut off gasp, and soft grunt from the body laying on top of him. 

Then silence, and a numb buzzing in Keith’s ears. 

_ No— _

“Shiro,” Keith gasps, his mind nothing but frozen static. Shiro’s not making any noise, he’s not moving, and he has to be okay. Keith had been _ right there_; the thought that they’d come all this way and it still might not be enough is too much to bear. 

“Shiro, can you hear me? Shiro?” Keith’s words spill from him in a rush, panic licking faster and faster up his lungs. “Shiro? Come on,_ answer me_.”

Shiro groans, his arm trembling as he tries to push himself off Keith. Before Keith can even tell him to stop moving, he collapses again, knocking the wind from Keith’s lungs. 

“S-Sorry,” Shiro gasps, his voice weak and pained and terrifying. “S-Sorry. Are you...hurt?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.” Where are the others? “Just stay still. Stay right there.” Keith’s hands are hovering, desperate to haul Shiro off him but too terrified to touch. There’s no time, no time—

“Here we go.” Allura’s voice floats over from somewhere, but Keith’s focus is only on Shiro’s pained cry when his weight disappears from on top of Keith. 

“Shiro!” Keith scrambles to his feet, blinking the white flashes from his eyes. It’s a moment before he realises why the red in his vision doesn’t disappear so easily. 

It’s Shiro, the colour a stark brightness blooming through a maze of cracks in his armour. Shiro, teeth gritted and eyes squeezed shut as he lays bonelessly in Allura’s arms, letting out a soft cry to break Keith’s heart as she shifts him in her grip. 

“I will take him back to the ship,” she says grimly, jogging away. “You take care of Keith.” 

Keith finally tears his eyes away from Shiro when she speaks, not understanding. His feet stumble as he tries to chase after her and the rocks and dust beneath him are swaying. 

“Easy, buddy.” A strong arm catches him, and then Hunk’s on one side, Lance on the other. 

“Shiro—”

_ Why did you save me? _

“Allura’s got him,” Lance says. “He’s alive.” 

“Let’s just get you back to Atlas,” Pidge says from somewhere behind him. “You don’t look so great either.” 

Keith shakes his head, though he knows full well that Hunk and Lance are the only things holding him up. “‘M fine. Shiro—Shiro’s hurt.” 

_ You will never be enough. _

Not enough. Not fast enough, strong enough,_ good _ enough to save his best friend. The moment is still echoing distantly on the fringes of Keith’s mind: the weight of Shiro over him, the realisation that came too late, that horrible way that his body had jerked on top of Keith. It’s all he can feel. It’s all he can remember, and white turns to black while terror overtakes his heart, casting a blanket over anything other than _ get away get away get away_, away from danger and away from everything in the universe that is determined to take Shiro from him. Fear is white noise in his mind. Fear is the sight of Shiro’s blood smeared across his chest and the light fading from his eyes as he reaches out with trembling fingers, begging for Keith to save him. 

Eyes that looked at Keith with everything he ever wanted but was too afraid to hope for.

_ I love you_. 

Black turns to blue turns to white, and for all of Keith’s words and empty promises, he didn’t save him. 

_ I’m sorry. It’s my fault. _

“I don’t think Number One would think that at all.” 

But it _ was _ Keith. Keith who just takes and takes and takes, who demanded first Shiro’s love then his life. 

“This was not your fault.” 

I didn’t save him. 

“My boy, you have. Love isn’t always sacrifice, but also gratitude.”

_ I will never give up on you. _

_ I love you. _

“Now just rest, Keith. Just rest now.” 

White turns to black, and Keith cannot hold any longer. He slips, and falls, and white turns to black—then to the grey of storm clouds, a smile, and home.


	3. Chapter 3

Shiro floats amongst a white fog. 

It’s somewhat familiar, this in between space that is neither dream nor reality nor death. Shiro’s had so many encounters with the afterlife that this new void is nothing alarming. It’s nothing as concrete as the anchoring of his soul to his lion, so he’s content to just drift, oddly certain that this will soon pass. 

So he drifts and thinks of Keith. 

_ I’m sorry _ , are the words that ripple through his consciousness. He doesn’t know why, but he does know that thinking of Keith leaves him regretting. He hasn’t done right by Keith lately. Not in a long time, if he’s to be fully honest with himself; not since he left for Kerberos on a promise to be broken and came back with a heart turned to stone. A heart that has always belonged to Keith, but which Shiro can’t let him see. 

The truth is, Shiro never meant to hurt Keith—but he had. He never wanted to leave him, but he had, both willingly and not. 

The truth is, Shiro never meant to fall in love with Keith—but he had. 

It was easy. One of the easiest things he’s ever done, and it’s not that Shiro regrets meeting him. How can he, when the man has given him nothing but happiness and an honest love to every scar on Shiro’s jagged soul? But he regrets that he couldn’t give Keith that same simple love without  _ being _ in love with him. He regrets that he couldn’t be everything Keith needed. 

_ I’ll be better _ , he promises to the nothingness. He can love without wanting, he promises, if whatever otherworldly force out there will just give him one more miracle and bring him home. 

_ I’m sorry _ , and now he remembers why. 

The pod is dull steel beneath his palms and he is looking at Keith, heart aching at the pain in those eyes that reflect his own. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice echoes with grief. “I’m so sorry.” 

_ I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry for running away when I never wanted to.  _

_ I’m sorry for falling in love with you.  _

Shiro goes to touch Keith’s cheek, to steal that one final moment. But then Keith is fading and Shiro’s heart pounds when his hands grab at nothing, Keith turning into dust before his eyes. 

“Keith!” 

The name is leaden weight on Shiro’s tongue and he catches one last glimpse of purple eyes grieving before they fade into black. Into the empty expanse of the sky as he falls, Keith falling with him, and the universe sparks and collapses in a shower of metal. Firelight glints off the monster’s claw that has taken the place of Shiro’s arm and he tries to call Keith’s name, but no words come. They hadn’t come; in this memory that is and isn’t his, his eyes had slipped shut before he could make any sound. 

“I’m here, Shiro.”

Keith. 

“You’re safe. You can rest now. We’re both safe.” 

Safe. 

Keith is safe. 

There is a deep darkness, and Shiro is falling. 

As he slips away, he thinks he feels Keith’s hand in his, strong fingers wrapped right around his wrist. 

Shiro grabs on. 

* * *

There is a white fog, and Shiro is floating. 

This time, the experience is unpleasantly concrete. Awareness creeps in little by little, first of the bone-deep ache in his limbs, then the more persistent pain along his right side. Slowly, he sneaks one eye open, then slams it shut again with a pitiful groan at the blinding white that greets him. 

“Shiro?” 

_ Yeah _ , he wants to say, but it’s a grunt more than a response. Words are beyond him right now, his brain insisting on five more minutes before he has to come to the conscious world with all its issues and aches and  _ thoughts _ . But an image hangs in his mind of worried violet eyes staring down at him, and it draws an imprint of panic, of thinking  _ threat threat threat _ —then pain. 

That whole mess and the visceral taste of fear is enough to kick start his systems and have him push words out past the debris in his throat. 

“Keith.” The sound is weak, and Shiro coughs in an attempt to clear the prickly dryness in his throat. The action makes his chest ache. “Keith. Keith’s okay?”

A gentle weight settles over his hip. “I’m here. I’m okay.” 

Something in Shiro settles at the sound of Keith’s voice; he’s speaking quietly but his voice is strong, nothing like when Shiro last saw him. Even now, Shiro feels the echoes of the terror that plagued him as he’d carried Keith across that foreign planet, unsure if either of them would make it out alive. This time, it looks like both of them have, and that’s something to be grateful for. 

It is something to be grateful for, and Shiro finds himself back where he always ends up when his mind starts to wander: to love, to Keith, and to thinking  _ I will do better by you.  _ The close call is a grim reminder of all Shiro could lose—all that he has lost already—if he doesn’t control his heart. 

“Shiro? You with us?” Keith’s voice is a little strained and Shiro can’t keep him waiting any longer. 

Slowly, he pries his eyes open, unable to prevent the groan escaping from his throat as he does so. The room is still too damn bright, but this time Shiro forces his eyes to focus. There’s nothing in front of him except a white expanse of ceiling, so he twists his head a little, the movement making his body protest, to catch sight of some monitors, another bed with rumpled sheets…

And Keith. 

Keith looks tired. Not for the first time, Shiro thinks that he is much too young to be bearing so much weight. Unspoken grief is carved into that face that Shiro adores so much, written in the soft crease of his brow and the weariness in his eyes. 

Hoping to reassure, Shiro smiles. But Keith just watches, in that careful, measured way of his. Shiro’s heard some people call it cold, but he knows better. If it is cold, it’s only because Keith feels so deeply that he has to keep his broken heart frozen so it doesn’t come apart entirely. But knowing Keith’s tells doesn’t make him feel any better that Keith is so obviously upset. 

“Hey,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m okay.” 

Keith sighs, and it’s only when he removes his hand from Shiro’s hip that he misses it. “You’re something, all right.” The words are a clumsy attempt at humour, betrayed by the sharp edge to Keith’s tone. Shiro wants to make this better, somehow, but his first thought—‘You should see the other guy’—probably won’t go down well. He doesn’t know how long he’s been laid up, but it’s long enough that Keith seems to have recovered his strength. It’s also long enough for Keith to have that haunted look in his eyes, and Shiro hates that he was the one to put it there. Again. 

Shiro’s sluggish brain is still scrambling for something, anything, when Keith’s gaze flicks away, and then—

“You gave us quite a fright there, Number One!”

Shiro grunts. He can’t keep up with Coran’s volume right now, well-meaning as it is. The Altean waltzes—there’s no other word for it—into the room, scrutinising the monitors, and then Shiro. “How are we feeling?” 

“Like a truck ran me over three or four times.” Maybe five. With the added bonus of that weird, untethered feeling he gets these days, post-clone-body-transfer, when he pushes himself too hard. Shiro doesn’t add that part, because Coran’s already humming disapprovingly as he inspects the indecipherable numbers from the various screens. 

“Here.” Keith conjures up a water pouch from somewhere, holding the straw steady to Shiro’s lips. It’s not until the cool liquid hits his tongue that Shiro realises how absolutely parched he is, and a pathetic sound leaves his throat as he tries to prop himself up against the mountain of pillows behind him. 

“Slowly, now,” Coran chides, bracing a hand under Shiro’s arm to help him up. “You put yourself through quite the ordeal there,” 

“At least this time I didn’t lose a limb,” Shiro says with a grim smile, turning his gaze away from Coran and to Keith as the Altean begins to poke and prod at his various injuries. “I’ve been through worse.” 

At that, Keith barks out what is probably meant to be a laugh, and the rough edge to the sound cuts Shiro in ways he didn’t know was possible. But Keith doesn’t get a chance to follow up with whatever he was about to say, because agony suddenly lances up Shiro’s shoulder and he lets out a hiss, flinching away from Coran involuntarily. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Shiro says, but his voice sounds strangled and distant in his ears. “Just—stings a bit.” 

“Your crystal didn’t appreciate that blow to your arm.” Coran’s tone is a shade less cheery than before, his lips pursed in concern as he gently tilts Shiro’s head to inspect his shoulder port. “I had hoped that the burning would’ve healed by now, but no matter. Another few days and you’ll be good as new.” 

Shiro nods, suddenly exhausted. When he flexes the fingers of his right arm under the blankets, the connection does feel a little weaker than usual. But it doesn’t hurt, which is a good sign, especially when his whole body feels stiff and achy. There’s a spot just below his chest that feels particularly tight, presumably from that final shot ( _ blind panic, have to keep Keith safe _ ). But with the way that Keith is glaring at the middle distance, Shiro doesn’t feel like bringing that up. 

“Thanks, Coran,” Shiro says quietly. “Like you said, just another couple of days. Just a bit of bed rest and I’ll be fine, I’m sure.” 

“Well, you have had some days to heal now.” 

At that, Shiro feels familiar guilt at the worry he must have caused. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “But—are  _ you _ okay?” he asks Keith. “You hit your head pretty hard. Did we make sure—”

“I was fine after a day. Less than.” 

Shiro waits a beat for Keith to elaborate, for the familiar smile—concerned but fond—to light up his face. But the silence only stretches on, and Shiro feels the chasm in his heart widening with each passing moment. 

This isn’t how they are. The two of them have always been affectionate and whenever Shiro thinks of Keith, he feels warm, not this frosty anger that’s both challenge and defiance. Another wave of exhaustion washes over Shiro, and this time it has nothing to do with the fatigue in his limbs. Instead, it’s the weight in his heart and smothering his soul; he was so  _ stupid _ , to think that Keith’s natural concern after Shiro’s injury would simply wipe clean everything that’s been wrong for months. Shiro can’t forget that  _ he’s _ the one who brought them to this horrible, stilted place and his shoulders slump with the realisation that this shattered rift between them is only the natural conclusion of a heart he couldn’t control, 

What did he expect? It’s unfairly cruel of him to pull back from their friendship and still expect that Keith would still have any respect or fondness for him. It’s unfairly cruel, to both of them, to hope that Keith might still love him when Shiro has tried his hardest not to. 

A leaden weight settles around his chest at the realisation that Keith has moved on. Shiro is nothing but an irritation, a piece of his past that only holds him back. Shiro has waited years for Keith to realise the utter emptiness that’s always been hidden beneath polish and titles, that he is nothing but rotted scrap beneath a husk of golden chrome. The fact that Shiro has finally given Keith a reason to see who he truly is shouldn’t break his heart the way that it does. 

It was foolish to think he could hold onto Keith. It was foolish to ever hope that he could be healed. 

“Well,” Coran says, his voice ringing too loud in Shiro’s heartache. “I’ll leave the two of you to…I’ll leave the two of you.” Before Shiro can even thank him, the door is swinging shut, and Shiro is left alone with Keith. Keith, whose features are carefully blank, in a way that Shiro has seen more and more these days. 

Shiro could let him be. Push him away, yet again, with a few reassurances that Shiro will be fine alone, and usher Keith off to rest. But Keith is so obviously upset, and despite the rational part of his mind telling him to leave it alone, that anything he does will be futile, he can’t do  _ nothing _ . 

“You’re quiet,” Shiro says eventually, unable to take the silence. 

“I’m not.” The retort is both instant and ridiculous. His tension would be obvious even to someone who doesn’t know him, from the way he pinches the soft part of his palm, to his inability to meet Shiro’s eyes. “I’m fine,” Keith continues to insist, as though denial has ever been effective defence where Shiro’s concerned. 

“Keith, you’re obviously not.” 

“Well, I’m sorry I’m still an asshole after you almost died,” Keith snaps. “You should know what I’m like by now.” 

Even though Shiro expected it to some extent, the ease with which Keith slips into self-hatred is alarming. Especially when, objectively, Shiro’s the only one who can be blamed for any of this. 

“Keith, I never said that.”  _ I’d never say that _ . Keith looks ready to bolt, so Shiro tries his hardest to keep his tone gentle. But he can’t mask his hurt, and Shiro hates himself even more for the way that Keith flinches when Shiro speaks. 

It aches, because Shiro never wanted for Keith to hurt, and he never wanted to  _ be _ the one to hurt him. That need to protect Keith has always been there, though it has grown over time. It had started off being about lifting up a boy that reminded Shiro too much of himself, hurt and beaten and a breath away from hardening his hard to nothingness. And then, once Shiro had failed at that mission (had caused Keith as much devastating grief as any part of his past), Shiro swore that above all else he would protect Keith’s life. 

But of course, Shiro could never do anything by halves. It’s some sad irony that his very desire to see Keith happy grew so strong that now, it only causes the both of them pain. 

“It’s what you meant, isn’t it?”

“No, it isn’t.” Shiro knows that his own words are growing clipped now, but why can’t Keith see that this has nothing to do with him? “It isn’t, and you should know me better than that. You should know that I could never blame you.”

“Well, you should!” The broken note in his voice is enough to shatter Shiro. “I do, so why wouldn’t you? I wasn’t good enough and you had to save my ass again. Don’t lie to me, Shiro.” Now, he looks up at Shiro, with a wild grief in his eyes that Shiro wishes he could take away. “Don’t lie to me. I fucked up.”

Shiro needs him to stop. Stop this horrible assault on himself, as if he isn’t the strongest and kindest man Shiro knows. But he doesn’t know what to say to make this okay, and he stumbles on his words. “Keith, you—there’s not—you didn’t fuck up.”

It’s not enough. He will never be enough for Keith’s happiness, and Keith’s next words, coupled with his burning gaze of a broken man, painfully hammer that point home. 

“Why would you save me?” 

Shiro feels them slide one step closer to the inevitable precipice. “You can’t seriously be asking me that.” Shiro might not have said it yet, might not have returned the words to have Keith know just how crucial he is to Shiro’s life, but surely he knows that at least he means  _ something _ ? “You would’ve done the same for me. You  _ have _ .” 

“That’s different.” 

Shiro blinks, baffled. “How? How is it any different to you coming after me when I would’ve killed you?” Even months later, Shiro still doesn’t understand. That Keith thinks it’s any less of a feat than Shiro taking a shot for him is even more ridiculous. 

“It just is. You don’t—” Keith cuts himself off, clenching his fists. Grief is thick in Keith’s voice, making it crack and waver. Shiro’s caused it. This time, and so many times before. 

“It wasn’t as though it was a  _ choice _ for me.”

“But why the hell did you think I’d be okay if you sacrificed yourself?” 

The smallest sound slips past Shiro’s lips, but he can’t find the words. He doesn’t know how to answer, because in what world would Shiro let Keith die?

“I didn’t, but I can’t  _ not _ put you first, Keith.” Not now. Not ever.

“You don’t get to die for me.” Keith’s words are clipped. “You don’t get to decide that I’m more important than you.” 

“But you are,” Shiro says. His voice is flat, because it’s nothing more or less than truth, even as his heart is shaking. “You’re whole.” Strong and brave and beautiful, and every good thing in the world. “I’ve been broken so many times before, and  _ you’ve _ saved me all those times even if it wasn’t worth it.” 

When Shiro looks at Keith, there’s a different type of grief reflected in his eyes now. 

“What are you talking about? In what world are you not worth saving?” Keith’s words come out on a hoarse whisper. 

“I’m not.” There’s a small, hurt sound of protest that escapes Keith at the denial, but he lets Shiro continue. “I’m damaged, Keith, and any—losing me would just be—” Shiro makes a frustrated growl, the words not coming out right. Nothing sounds  _ right _ . He’s never tried to say this out loud for that very reason, because he can’t quite explain how Keith is whole and bright where Shiro is just the tattered pieces of his younger self. Losing Keith would be a black hole in the universe. Losing Shiro would just the fragments of his soul finally slipping quietly into nothing. 

“Shouldn’t I be able to make that choice?” Keith asks, when Shiro falls silent. “Doesn’t my judgment count for anything, or do you think you have it all figured out?” 

“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, all right?” he says, instead of continuing. “You have every right to be upset. I’ve left you so many times.” Shiro doesn’t know how he’ll ever be worthy of forgiveness for those sins. “But you’re important to me and you can’t ask me  _ not _ to choose you.” 

“You’re important to me, too.” Keith’s voice is wavering now, eyes glistening, and Shiro never wanted this. “You don’t get to decide that you’re not. You don’t get to say that it hasn’t been worth it, because it killed me to lose you every time but it was  _ always _ worth getting you back.” 

Shiro’s never said any of this precisely because he knows how much pain he’s caused Keith, and never wanted to hurt him more. He’s never wanted to see that broken expression on Keith’s face and he’s never wanted to see Keith fight something Shiro knows is true. 

The moment that Shiro woke up in Keith’s shack, those first few hours after he’d returned to Earth, Keith’s eyes had been on him. The gaze had been weary and battle-worth, his grief striking Shiro like a blow. 

Keith was never meant to look like that. Never again; not when Shiro had the privilege to know what happiness looked like on him. 

Keith was never meant to look like that, and Shiro had been the one to weigh down Keith’s tired heart once again, after promising to do anything but. 

_ I won’t let you down again _ , he’d thought, as Keith had folded him in an embrace.  _ I can’t _ . 

It’s that promise that has haunted Shiro every day since. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say anymore,” Shiro says. 

“Just tell me  _ why _ . I don’t get it,” Keith says, and he sounds so lost, carrying grief that he shrugs on like an old coat. “I don’t get it, because we haven’t been that close. Not since…” 

Keith trails off, and the ringing silence that follows has Shiro frozen by the coming of a conversation he never wanted to have. 

Not since. Not since Shiro’s returned to this body. Not since Shiro almost killed the very best thing in his life. Not since, “I know you’re in there.”

Not since, “I love you,” but not in the way Shiro had wanted the words. 

_ I just needed more time _ , he wants to explain. But that gets him nowhere when the inevitable question to follow will be “for what?” and he doesn’t have the strength to lie anymore. 

So instead, he says, “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know if Keith hears all that apology is. For every single inch that Shiro pulled away because he wasn’t strong enough to be in love with his best friend without asking for more, as well as every time he has been pulled away against his will, leaving only grief and destruction behind. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “There was just a lot on my mind.” 

“You used to tell me when there was,” Keith says quietly. The words are far from accusatory, but guilt washes over Shiro anyway. “These past couple of months, it’s like you didn’t even want me around Shiro.” 

“Of course I want you around,” Shiro replies immediately. He wants to say it’s ridiculous that Keith would think otherwise, but really, actions speak louder than words and what reason has Shiro given in the past few months for Keith to have any faith in him any longer. “I—of course I do. You’re still important to me, even if…” No. Again, too close to letting the truth trip out, too close to losing everything. 

“Even if what, Shiro?” Keith demands. “Even if we don’t talk? Even if we don’t have any time for each other anymore?” 

_ Yes _ , he should reply, because it is safe. “No, that’s not what I meant,” his traitor mouth says, because even now he can’t lie to Keith. 

“Then what is it, Shiro?” 

Bedridden, Shiro can’t run the way he has been for so long, the way he so desperately needs to if he’s to salvage whatever is left of their relationship. 

_ This _ is why he put that horrible distance between them. The way Keith’s eyes are on him—concern and fear and trust all at once—demands truth, but it would destroy the two of them. Although maybe it’s entirely futile, because isn’t it all broken already? This tension, this ache between them...isn’t this entirely what Shiro had feared if he voiced his feelings?

All the same, this way he can keep pretending. This way he doesn’t have to bear the weight of rejection. 

“I just don’t get it,” Keith presses, rage and fear burning together. “I don’t get how you can go from not talking to me for—for  _ months _ , and then turn around and put your life on the line for me.” 

“It was the mission—”

“Bullshit.” 

Shiro flinches. They’re standing at the cliff’s edge, and Shiro’s out of excuses and explanations except for the one that will send them into free fall. 

“We had a job to do,” Shiro tries again, voice steadier now. “The Coalition can’t afford to lose you.” 

Keith’s laugh drags out on the edge of a sob yet again; Shiro’s starting to hate the sound. 

“How did we get here?” Keith whispers, staring at his knees. “How did we end up like this?”

_ I fell in love with you _ . “What do you mean?” 

“Shiro,” he says, sounding as empty as Shiro feels, “when did we stop being honest with each other?” 

In the wake of those words, Shiro’s heart shatters quietly. Yet he can’t find any more words, because Keith is right—anything else Shiro has to say won’t be anything that either of them can trust. 

“I think I know the answer to that,” Keith says eventually. His usually steady hands are shaking, thumbnail digging into his skin as he clenches and unclenches his fists in his lap. “I get why we stopped talking. I get that I scared you off when—after our fight. I know I ruined something between us.” 

No. No, that makes no sense.  _ Shiro’s _ the one who ruined things, but Keith continues before Shiro gets a chance to correct him. “I get why you left, but I don’t understand why you’d throw your life away like that. Because it wasn’t just the mission, Shiro.” Keith looks up now, grief in his eyes. “It wasn’t the  _ mission _ when you shoved me in the pod and apologised to me while you left me behind. When you—you looked at me.” 

“Keith…”  _ Please _ .  _ Don’t ask this of me _ . 

But Keith continues, doggedly pursuing the truth, the way that Shiro has always admired. “You—you looked at me as though…” 

And here they are. 

Maybe this is penance. 

Maybe, Shiro was never meant to have him. Maybe this is the universe telling him that it was ridiculously selfish to ever want peace when it came to Keith.

Yet in other ways, isn’t Shiro lucky? Isn’t Shiro lucky to know this beautiful man, who is staring at him with wide, honest eyes, demanding the best of him? A weary calm washes over him, a tide of gratitude to drown him. If the universe is so hellbent on taking this sliver of happiness from him, then let it. Shiro will still love him, whether close or afar. At least this way, Keith can see that he is wanted. 

Let Keith take his heart. 

He has always had it. 

“I looked at you as though I love you,” Shiro says quietly. Fiercely. Fearfully. 

“Because I do.” 

The ringing silence which follows his words is every bit as damning as Shiro ever feared. Keith stares at him in disbelief, lips slightly parted, and Shiro never thought the vision of his heartbreak would look so beautiful. But Keith can’t seem to form any words, and the quiet is a death knell on Shiro’s friendship with the best person he knows. Hollow, leaden and final. 

But really, Shiro doomed them both to this when he opened his heart and let in a boy born from a fallen star in the desert. And because this is to be the end and he has lost everything there is to lose, Shiro continues, voice quiet with conviction even as Keith stares. “I closed the lid on your pod knowing I wouldn’t survive, because I couldn’t even begin to imagine a world without you. I couldn’t let you die there because the universe is better with you in. And as I was saying, you’re still important to me, even if...even if you don’t love me back.” 

Still, Keith remains silent, and Shiro’s heart—worn with decay from the past few months—shatters quietly, although he understands. Keith’s trying to navigate the ruins of their relationship after Shiro’s decimated it, trying to lead Shiro out without any further damage because Keith is  _ good _ . Keith is selfless and kind in a way that Shiro hoped to be but could never become. 

“You don’t owe me anything.” Unable to look at Keith any longer—because how long would it take for disbelief to turn to disgust and disappointment?—Shiro stares at a spot on the white expanse of his blankets instead. “You’ve been by my side way longer than I ever hoped for, and I’m grateful for your friendship. But you wanted to know why I pulled away and well...it’s because I knew I couldn’t be close without all this spilling out.” Shiro laughs, hollow and broken. “Guess that plan worked as well as the one where I got cloned and tried to kill you.” Shiro winces; now isn’t the time to let his mouth run and remind Keith of all the ways he’s let him down. “Sorry.” 

“Shiro…” 

Shiro has imagined this moment—been haunted by it—so often that he knows what Keith will say next, or at least a variation. “I love you, as a friend,” would be Keith’s style, direct but caring. Or, “you’re my brother,” the exact phrase that tore Shiro’s heart apart before he even realised why. Before he realised that he had been in love with Keith for years, but that it was too late. 

But the words that slip past Keith’s lips, while broken, aren’t the ones that Shiro expects to hear. 

“Shiro.” His name is soft in Keith’s hands, a gentle caress, a promise to catch him. “In what world would I not love you back?” 

“I know you do, Keith,” Shiro says gently, still staring at the blanket covering his lap. After all, what else would Keith’s devotion be if not love? And it’s that knowledge that hurts the most, that Keith loves him wholly and honestly but not like that. 

In the face of losing that, Shiro should feel more. But his grief is buried as a deep, deep ache in his chest where his heart once was, all a distant, foggy pain buried beneath layers of grey void. Of everything he’s survived, it’s amazing that he’s still able to feel heartbreak. Any other day, Shiro would be relieved at such undeniable proof that he is still human, even if he’s made from alien science and magic. 

But today all Shiro can do is take the pain and march through it. “I know you love me, Keith,” he repeats. “And I’m grateful. I—I want to be able to be your friend and be there for you the way you need me to. And I’ll get there. I promise. I can figure it out and love you the way you love me. But right now, that’s—that’s not the way I mean.” 

Keith’s fingers are gentle on his cheek and Shiro wants to cry, because it’s unfair for Keith to be this soft with him. Still, he gives in to the gentle pressure, tilting his head up to meet Keith’s eyes. Keith’s eyes, bright and fierce and loving. Shiro thinks, almost daily, that he could get lost in that gaze and that’s exactly what he does now, because Keith is looking at him as though he is the last thing left in this world. Like he yearns for Shiro to be close, to understand something deeper than words. 

The way Shiro knows he looks at Keith. 

Shiro forgets to breathe. 

“I love you,” Keith says again, each word ringing with striking finality in Shiro’s heart. “And  _ this _ is how I mean it.” 

Then Keith is leaning forward, his hand against Shiro’s chest, a beautiful pressure as he crowds Shiro’s space. For a moment, it all hangs suspended: Keith’s familiar scent surrounding him, Keith’s breath warm against Shiro’s own, a moment’s hesitation in his gaze. Then that beautiful violet is close, so wonderfully close, and Keith bridges that final gap with faith and love alone as he presses his lips to Shiro’s. 

The kiss is warm, the moment unhurried. It’s a chaste thing that is enough to sustain Shiro for a lifetime, a small, selfish moment that Shiro never thought would come true: Keith’s mouth gentle on his own, his embrace reassuring as he slides an arm around Shiro’s waist, the loveliest warmth as Shiro reciprocates with a hand against his hip. Loves wells in his heart, pushing blossoms of hope through crumbled ruins of heartbreak that Shiro thought would last forever. The new realisation that they won’t has Shiro holding Keith all the closer with the knowledge that he  _ can _ . 

Because Keith is here. 

Keith is  _ with _ him, and the realisation has Shiro gasping, his breath hitching when Keith draws away slowly. Shiro can’t take his eyes off Keith, overwhelmed. “I—Keith.” He raises his hand, still hesitant, but when Keith doesn’t move, he closes the distance to cup Keith’s cheek gently. “Keith.”

Keith still looks horribly tired, but now he smiles with a freedom that echoes in Shiro’s own heart. “Shiro.” 

“I honestly thought…” 

“Really, Shiro?” Keith goes for something playful, but there’s a little bit of heartbreak in his eyes. “After everything we’ve been through together, you thought that was all platonic?” 

It sounds stupid when he puts it like that, but… “But  _ I  _ didn’t even realise what I felt for you until our...fight. When you said we were brothers, I had no idea why that hurt until after. Until I realised that I wanted something different.” There had been far too much to think about, far too much to mourn and grieve. That his heartbreak could be caused by Keith’s words hadn’t even registered as a possibility. “I thought you only wanted me as a brother. A friend.” 

When Keith doesn’t reply, Shiro forces himself to fight down the fear that nothing has changed.  _ Come  _ on _ Shirogane, have a little faith _ . Whatever their feelings, hidden or otherwise, Shiro knows that Keith treasures their friendship if nothing else. Keith doesn’t lie to him, and he wouldn’t play with him. He knows that. 

So Shiro gives him time, grounding himself in the careful way that Keith is watching him and the memory of their lips pressed together. Words don’t come easy to Keith; it had probably been far easier fling himself off that clone facility into the abyss than it had been to say those precious three words. Keith has always given him patience and the room for Shiro to be whatever he wanted to be. 

Shiro can do the same for him. 

“I said all of that,” Keith begins, “because I didn’t know what I wanted us to be either. I don’t exactly have the best track record with what a family is, and you were the only person I could really call family for so long. I’d been alone for ages. I didn’t think that I could be in love. So I—I said what I said, because I couldn’t figure out how to tell you how much you meant to me.” 

Keith takes a shuddering breath, and Shiro takes his hand. “‘I love you’ didn’t seem enough,” Keith continues. “You’re my family, Shiro. I’m sorry I messed it up, but I was so lost and I didn’t know what else to  _ do _ —”

“Keith, no.” Shiro’s always tried to give Keith space to speak without interrupting, but he can’t let him go down this path right now. He tugs Keith closer, wrapping an arm around him to pull him close. His other hand hasn’t let go of Keith’s, and he has no intention to. “Don’t say that. You saved my life; how could that be messing anything up?” 

“We’ve been missing each other for  _ months _ because of what I said.” 

“That was the two of us, Keith,” Shiro says. “I knew that I should’ve just talked to you, but I was scared to lose you. I can’t blame you for not understanding how you felt when I didn’t understand myself.” Gently, in a gesture that Shiro has dreamed of so many times, he presses his lips to Keith’s forehead. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too.” 

“Shiro, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” It’s unacceptable that Keith it’s fine for anyone, let alone Shiro, to treat him that way. It’s true that Shiro had his reasons—they both did—but those reasons don’t mean that they weren’t both hurt by their misunderstandings. Shiro refuses to move forward without Keith knowing that he should only ever be treated with respect and love. Without Keith knowing the depth of his worth to Shiro. 

“It killed me to walk away, Keith.” Shiro is shaking at the admission, because he never wanted Keith to see these ugly, selfish parts of him, especially this. For all of Shiro’s scars and crimes and mistakes, turning his back on Keith is the worst of them. But Keith is important, and he needs to know exactly how important before either of them can move forward together. “It killed me, and you have to know that it was never anything that you did. It wasn’t because you weren’t enough, or that you messed up in any way. It was because you were exactly everything I ever wanted—everything I still want—and thought I couldn’t get.” 

His left hand is shaking, but still, he circles his thumb over the back of Keith’s hand, hoping that Keith will take everything that he needs from Shiro’s words. 

“I love you,” Shiro says, belief making him strong. “For everything that you are. Do you believe me?” If the answer is no, then Shiro will do everything he can to give Keith even half a chance of seeing everything he is in Shiro’s eyes. 

There’s a fragment of belief in Keith’s gaze, as he locks eyes with Shiro, searching for an answer that Shiro is attempting to give him without words. And it dawns on Shiro that this is a precious kind of miracle, that he will be able to keep building that hope and belief in Keith’s heart and soul. Although this is entirely new, he hopes that he gets to keep doing this, gets to keep building Keith up to everything that Shiro knows him to be. 

The moment’s silence feels more like wonder than hesitation, before Keith squeezes Shiro’s hands, and whispers a quiet “yes” that settles itself like a warm blanket over Shiro’s heart. “I believe you.”

Shiro smiles, true and content, because there is no greater gift than that. “I love you,” he repeats, because he can, and just to see Keith smile. 

“I love you, too. And you know the same goes for you, right?” Keith says, after a beat. “I forgive you, because I never blamed you. I still don’t.”

Shiro blinks. “But I left. I left you alone—”

“And you just told me that it hurt you just as much.” Keith’s gaze is warm and understanding. “We—we both did things wrong. But we can’t go forward if we’re both constantly blaming ourselves. And I know you, Shiro. I know that you take things on, but you don’t have to carry everything by yourself. Not anymore.” His lips tilt gently, and Shiro finds himself thinking that Keith’s smile is his saviour. “You never have. And whatever you think you’re missing, or that’s broken about you...I love all of it. I love all of you, and I mean that in every way you want me to mean it.” 

For the first time in a very long while, Shiro feels alive. 

He closes his eyes, resting his forehead to Keith’s, and just breathes. 

“Go on a date with me,” he says abruptly, and he feels Keith’s amused huff against his cheek. 

“Really, Shiro, is that all you have to say now?” 

Shiro opens his eyes to see Keith watching him with amusement, affection, and love. “Yeah. I want to go on a date with you. I want to do this right. So, what do you think? A dinner somewhere, just the two of us?” 

The gentle smile on Keith’s face grows bright, buoying Shiro’s heart. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” 

Shiro grins widely in return, and despite his aches and pains, he slings an arm around Keith to pull him from his sitting position, Keith all but leaning over the bed now. “Go stargazing. Go for a wander at night.”

“Whoop your ass in a bike race.”

Shiro makes a wounded noise, and like that, the blanket of grief that’s cloaked them dissipates entirely under the brightness of the bond they have always shared. “Hey! That’s not fair, I’m injured.” 

Keith chuckles, leaning in to rest a hand on Shiro’s heart. Distantly, Shiro wonders if Keith can feel the way it pounds in excitement. “Then get better quick.” 

“Don’t have much reason to move when I’ve got you right here with me, do I?” Shiro asks quietly. And really, this scene is entirely perfect: Keith tucked against him, warm and close and blooming safety in Shiro’s soul. His gaze on Shiro’s, warm with an adoration that steals his breath away. 

“I’ll always be right here,” Keith whispers, and it is fierce and gentle and loving all at once. “Always.” 

Shiro’s smile softens, and he presses his forehead to Keith’s, closing his eyes. Here, when it’s just the two of them, his soul feels entirely stripped away, his heart laid bare before the man who holds all of it. 

Always might be too strong a promise for a relationship that is only several minutes old, but is it really? Is it really, when the two of them have travelled the universe and saved each other, over and over and over? Is it really, when they have both defied death if only to keep the other whole? 

It isn’t, not really, when the two of them have travelled space and time and through endless stars, and always find their way back to each other. 

So Shiro whispers it back—a wish, a hope, a promise—that he will hold Keith for as long as they want each other. 

Always. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/starchydreams)!


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